Scenes From the Open Seas
by Disciple of Ember
Summary: A collection of shorts starring the different girls from Kantai Collection and the challenges they face in day to day operations.
1. Freezing

**I've always wanted to write something for Kantai Collection, but I could never really think of a proper idea. Then it occurred to me after a recent story of mine, why not just do a collection of shorts? Then I thought "no, that's a dumb plan." Clearly I showed me. Anyway, this is just some basic one-offs inspired by a random word generator. Probably six or seven stories with varying levels of silliness and seriousness ahead. In the event I write a cardinal sin against KC, I ask only that you avoid aiming for the head when throwing things.**

 **Anyway, that aside, disclaimer time. I don't own Kantai Collection or any of the characters associated with it.**

* * *

 _Chapter 1 - Freezing_

* * *

The squall was getting worse. Try as she might to fight through the storm, Inazuma found it difficult to see more than a few meters ahead of her. Visibility was dropping at an alarming rate, and the icy chill of the winter air was seeping deeper into her bones with every tumultuous wave that doused her body.

"Akatsuki!" She cried out, her voice swallowed by the howling gale. "Hibiki! Someone!"

No response came. Even if they'd been nearby, she doubted they'd have heard her. Not in this maelstrom.

She shook like a leaf, desperately covering her eyes against the saltwater being thrown in her face as she looked for safe mooring. All around her, steep cliff faces leered back through the haze of the storm, refusing to offer her sanctuary from the brutal winds that stirred the seas like a boiling cauldron.

That was twice they'd worked against her. It was because of those sheer cliffs that the scouting mission she and her sisters had been deployed on had turned into… _this._ The rocky outcrops had hidden the Abyssal forces from them, and them from the Abyssals, until they were right on top of each other. Even then, the skirmish that followed had been a hectic running engagement as both sides fought to outmaneuver the other through the numerous sight-blocking barriers.

As if that wasn't bad enough, a freak squall had formed not far off, and had swamped the battlefield without warning, forcing both sides to beat a hasty retreat or risk capsizing.

Unfortunately for Inazuma, she'd been separated from the others as she'd exchanged fire with a pair of I-Class Destroyers. When the storm rolled over her, she'd been caught out alone and quickly became lost in the madness. Her only saving grace was the fact that the Abyssals she'd been fighting seemed to have abandoned the hunt rather than face nature's wrath in an attempt to bring her down.

"I-I-Ikazuchi!" She yelled once more, sputtering against the cold as the rain beating down on her turned to sleet. "P-Please! Is anyone t-there!?"

Mocking her efforts, the wind picked up further and crushed any faint hope of calling for aid.

"N-n-nanodesu…" She whimpered pitifully. She was lost, alone, and caught in the middle of a downpour in the middle of December. Hope was going the way of the light as the cruel face of reality closed in all around her.

But then, right when she was starting to lose all hope, she saw it. A cave-like overhang cut into the side of one of the cliffs. A place that might offer some respite from the storm.

Without pausing to think, she gunned her engines. The motors in her rigging roared to life as she swayed in the water, stumbling against the rocky current while launching herself towards safety. She tore through the wind and the gale, careening headlong into the opening without the slightest concern for what might lay inside. Even crashing into a rock outcropping would be preferable to another minute in that deluge.

Very suddenly, the freezing rain ceased pounding against her as she crossed the threshold. The waters calmed to a more manageable degree, now rumbling under her feet instead of actively trying to drag her down. Even though she was still ragged and battle-torn, the feeling of sheer relief that rolled over her was warm enough that it almost made her forget about the icy cold clinging to her body.

"I… made it…" She breathed, a shaky smile working its way onto her features. "I… made-"

She stopped. She didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't even breathe.

Because she wasn't alone.

The cave, which was really more of an overhang given the fact that there was no solid ground underneath it, extended back a couple dozen meters. Pushed back against the far corner, someone else had apparently shared her idea to hide out the storm in here.

A single blue eye, similar in design to an ocular implant, stared unblinking at her. Sleek black armor, highlighted with bone-white additions decorated the girl's pale body. The massive frontal mount of her rigging jutted out in front of her like a shield, complete with the ominous jaw-like growth that seemed to characterize most of the Abyssal crafts.

Having only just escaped the storm, Inazuma found herself face to face with a Chi-Class Torpedo Cruiser.

For a long moment, nothing moved. Inazuma was too dumbstruck to react, and though it was almost impossible to read any kind of expression on the half-masked face of the Abyssal, the sudden tension in her posture left little to the imagination. The two stared one another down, until everything came crashing in at once.

In an automatic panicked gesture, Inazuma raised her main guns while a hundred thoughts screamed through her head. _Would her armaments be enough to bring down a cruiser? What could she do against a torpedo salvo in these close quarters? Could she risk a firefight that might end up bringing the roof down on both of them? What other choice did she have?_

The Chi-Class answered in kind, partially ducking behind the body of her armored exterior as she raised her arm cannon in a threatening gesture. It was then, in that moment, Inazuma realized something very, _very_ , bad.

She was out of ammo.

Having been equipped for reconnaissance, she hadn't been outfitted with a full supply of shells, and what she'd had was expended in the initial battle. She was staring down an enemy ship with an empty barrel and nothing else to defend herself with.

She braced, waiting for the inevitable barrage that would tear into her. Dodging from this range would be impossible, and her armor wasn't equipped for direct hits like that. Especially not against an Abyssal type so notorious for their damage output.

But the blows didn't come. She wasn't annihilated in a hail of fire. Though the Chi-Class had taken up a combat posture, she made no move to attack. In fact, she hadn't shifted from her position at all.

After a moment to get her bearings, she realized why.

"You're damaged…?"

She was. The Abyssal's armor was fractured in several places, her frontal guard missing a large chunk near the top, and most important of all, her weapons only vaguely resembled the functioning equipment they'd once been. Whether by tactical decision making, or pure luck, one of Inazuma's fellow Shipgirls had crippled her guns. On top of that, an inky black liquid was seeping into the water around her, and Inazuma could just make out the sound of an engine sputtering against a nearly empty tank over the noise of the storm.

The Abyssal was in worse shape than she was, meaning that the advantage was in her hands.

Naturally, this meant that the both of them were once more stuck in an awkwardly lengthy standoff as her mind struggled to come to terms with the developing situation. A more aggressive ship might have pushed the advantage in close combat, but Inazuma wasn't skilled at intentional ship-to-ship melee. Neither was she a particularly aggressive individual to begin with. She didn't like fighting, but _bluffing…_

That was something she could do.

"D-Don't move!" She ordered, her commanding authority being somewhat hampered by her chattering teeth and the way her voice cracked as she said it. "I-I-I mean it! If you m-move, I'll shoot!"

The Chi-Class didn't react, remaining stock stationary as her unblinking eye locked onto the lone Shipgirl.

"Er… I… um… am here to hide from the storm…" She explained, feeling a tad foolish even as she did. It wasn't like there were many other things she could have been doing at that moment. "I-I don't want trouble… so… stay where you are… and don't try anything…"

She had no idea what she was doing. As a warship, negotiations under pressure were not something she was trained in, and the Abyssals rarely showed an interest in talking to begin with. She stared hard, trying to get a read on what was going on behind that pale mask.

The Chi-Class didn't react.

"W-we don't have to fight… right now…" She started uncertainly. "If you just stay… er… calm… we can both share the cave until the weather clears. How does that s-sound to you?"

Once again, the Chi-Class didn't react.

"A-all right t-t-then…" Inazuma offered halfheartedly, lowing her gun a fraction. The Abyssal didn't mirror her gesture, remaining in her tensed ready position despite the attempted show of good faith.

She sighed.

"Why don't you s-stay over there, and I'll stay over here… all right?" She tried again. "And we can both wait this out and go our separate ways afterwards? Er… though if you're leaking fuel you might have to wait here until… well… you get help I guess?"

Predictably enough, the Chi-Class didn't react.

Feeling both terrified and incredibly foolish, Inazuma lowered her gun further before resigning herself to suffering through this ordeal with whatever small amount of dignity she had left.

The Abyssal wasn't making a move, so maybe, just maybe, she could endure this.

All she had to do was outlast the storm.

* * *

As it turned out, outlasting the storm was far easier said than done. The gale kept on throughout the rest of the day, and well into the night. As the little bit of light the sun had provided from behind the clouds fell off the horizon, the temperature dropped even further. Inazuma had never felt so cold in her life. The more time went on, the deeper the frigid, biting, chill crept into her. She could feel ice forming on her rigging, and even with the relative shelter of the cave, the wind and rain still managed to lash at her every now and again.

Casting a sidelong glance at her unwilling roommate, she was at least somewhat comforted by the fact that she wasn't the only one going through this.

The Chi-Class hadn't budged. Her steely gaze had been fixed firmly on Inazuma for hours now, and the tension had never left her body. If it weren't for the fact that she was shivering badly enough to rock her rigging in the water, Inazuma might have thought she'd become an ice sculpture.

Look at that though. It was so cold an _Abyssal_ was having a fit. That didn't bode well for her.

There weren't many options open to her. The cave offered very little room to warm herself by moving around, and the damage to her rigging from the battle and the storm wasn't doing her any favors. Leaving was impossible and staying was quickly turning into a deathtrap of its own. Maybe it was desperation for any chance of survival. Maybe it was the cold wreaking havoc with her rational thought process, but more and more she was finding that there was only one option left open to her. One crazy, probably suicidal, option.

Cautiously, she turned around and faced the Chi-Class.

"You l-l-look c-cold…" She offered, trying her best to casually broach a topic that sounded blindingly stupid even to her own ears. "How are you f-f-f-feel-feeling…?"

The Abyssal didn't respond.

"L-l-listen." She said, slowly approaching the pale girl. "The storm isn't l-letting up, and if we d-d-don't d-do something, we're going to f-freeze. I d-don't want that. I d-d-don't think you w-want that, right? Maybe we can help each ot-ot-other here..."

The moment she stared to move closer, she got the reaction she'd been waiting on. With surprising suddenness for one who hadn't moved any significant amount in the past several hours, the Chi-Class lurched backwards in the water, grinding against the back wall as she half threw herself away from the Japanese Destroyer. Something that might have been a choked growl issued from the back of her throat as she waved her broken cannon menacingly and glared out at the girl.

Inazuma stopped, her muscles screaming in protest at the way this action allowed the cold to gain more purchase.

This was a delicate situation. Some might even call it insane. That was fine. Right now, sanity seemed rather unimportant in the face of a slow, chilling death. She took a moment to raise her shaking hands in what she hoped was a non-threatening gesture.

"I-I-I d-don't know if you c-can understand m-me… but p-please try to l-listen!" She insisted. "If we d-don't do something, we'll f-f-freeze. I heard t-that the b-best thing to do at a t-time like this is s-s-share body heat. I k-know you're probably s-scared, and so am I, b-but please trust me, na-na-nano-na-nuhg…"

She caught herself, almost biting her own tongue as the chattering of her teeth reached a fever pitch.

"I-I-I-I'm n-not going to h-hu-hurt you."

The Chi-Class gave no visible indication that she'd accepted or even understood her words, but she was out of options. Taking one tentative inch at a time, she began to ease her way towards the Abyssal vessel.

The enemy ship tensed again, but she didn't stop this time. Inazuma kept moving forwards, slowly and cautiously. Her actions seemed to be making the cruiser more and more on edge, but she hadn't made a move to strike out yet.

 _If she clubs you to death, you won't have to worry about the cold._

The oddly morbid thought almost made her grin, but the shaking in her body had rendered such fine motor control nothing more than a distant fantasy.

Finally, she had no more distance to cross. She floated next to the Chi-Class, well within arm's reach. The other ship stared at her intently, her blazing blue eye fixed unblinking on her form for any sign of deceit.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Inazuma reached out and touched her.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. An explosion of movement maybe. A flash of pain from being bludgeoned by a ship of a higher weight class. Instead… nothing. The Chi-Class didn't flinch away or lash out. She just kept staring.

Heartened by the lack of rejection, she scooted closer, raising her other hand and gently wrapping it around the cruiser's exposed midriff. There was no reciprocation on the Abyssal's end, but once more, she didn't move to stop her.

Inazuma took a moment to marvel at the strange sensation of touching the Chi-Class. Her body was colder than she'd been expecting, though still a blessed spot of sunlight compared to the freezing conditions around them. It was smoother than that of a normal person, almost as though slick with oil despite there being no film or substance on her skin. Under normal conditions, she might have found the experience slightly unpleasant, but in that moment, she couldn't care less.

And it seemed she wasn't the only one. Without realizing it, the Chi-Class had maneuvered her free arm around Inazuma's shoulder and now held her in an awkward, uncomfortable hug.

She could have wept with relief had she not been worried about the tears turning to ice in her eyes. Needing no further goading, she leaned into the gesture, pressing herself more tightly to the enemy vessel's side and basking in the slight warmth the movement earned. She knew she was being too forward, and the tension she felt in the muscles of the Chi-Class showed that her advances weren't particularly welcome, but that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was how preferable her touch was to the frigid air.

They stayed like that, tangled in a peculiar embrace for a while. Eventually she felt the Abyssal's arm move away from her shoulder and begin padding and probing across her rigging. Maybe to search for any sections that were still operation enough to produce heat? She wasn't sure and didn't pay it too much mind. Wandering hands were the least of her concern at the moment. She blocked out the clicks and clanks, choosing instead to focus on nestling herself in such a way that she could press her cheek against the cruiser's shoulder and not her metal breastplate.

"And I thought I was underdressed… hehe…" Inazuma tittered, feeling more than a little out of sorts at the moment. "I don't know how you could stand to be out here wearing so little. You're almost as bad off as Shimakaze."

The Chi-Class gave something that might have been a grunt and something clicked behind her. She smiled, choosing to believe that it was the other girl's attempt at engaging in the conversation.

"I wonder what my sisters would say if they walked in on us… Would this count as a scandal? What about you, huh? Do you have any sisters? You probably do, don't you? They're probably worried about you right now…"

Inazuma went on, rambling in a one-sided conversation only occasionally broken up by some form of vocalization from her partner. The Chi-Class never spoke in a way that she could recognize, but even the noncommittal noises she made were a small comfort. In a way, this was what she'd always wanted. Peace. She didn't like fighting, even if the Abyssals had struck the first blow against humanity. This was a victory. A rare, probably once in a lifetime moment where she could interact with an enemy ship in a way besides violence. She felt grateful now. Despite how bad the weather had treated her, it had made this moment possible.

As the hours drifted by, unmarked by the two lost souls trapped within the cave, Inazuma had to fight to keep herself awake. It was dangerous to sleep in such chilly conditions, and she was sure that none of her fellow Shipgirls would be pleased to learn she'd taken a nap in the arms of the enemy. They didn't move much, keeping tight together for the sake of warmth, and there was little to distract her other than the chatting she started up on her own. Eventually though, her perseverance began to pay off.

Outside, the storm began to give way, sinking further and further away from them as the frigid sleet and biting winds were replaced by the first sunbeams of a new morning. The sunrise greeted the two of them in their cave, spreading much needed heat over the odd couple as Inazuma gazed on in wonder.

"We… we made it…" She breathed, hardly daring to believe it. "We made it through the storm…"

Taking that as her cue, the Chi-Class gently pried herself from the destroyer's side, nudging her thawing machine to action as it fought to kick off the sluggish night. After several attempts, the engine seemed to catch, and the water around them began to roil as she slowly began drifting towards the open ocean.

Without a single word or a backwards glance, Inazuma's one-time roommate departed, likely on her way back to whatever naval base she called home.

The destroyer watched her go with a sad smile. She would have liked to say a proper goodbye, but this was still more than she'd expected. She would be satisfied with the time they'd shared together, as she knew that alone was a precious and irreplaceable moment in time. Maybe, if she was fortunate, the two of them could meet again someday when they didn't have to fight anymore.

With a light sigh, Inazuma leaned forwards.

And went nowhere.

"Eh!?"

She pushed again, and only succeeded in drifting a bit from side to side. She had no forward thrust. Her engines weren't working.

Panic shot through her system like a lightning bolt as a thousand terrible scenarios played out in her head. Had the cold damaged her equipment? Had something broken during the skirmish without her noticing? What was she going to do? She couldn't work on field repair in these conditions!

As her mind raced to come to terms with what was happening, another thought occurred to her.

 _The Chi-Class sailed away._

For some reason, that stood out, though she couldn't put her finger on the reason why. It didn't seem especially unusual until she recalled their earlier introduction.

 _The Chi-Class had been leaking fuel. Her reserves had been emptied._

So how had…

 _The Chi-Class had been fumbling with her rigging while she was too focused on just staying warm._

No way…

 _She'd heard a click…_

No. No way. There was no way.

"What... when... _how!?"_

Desperate to dispel the notion, she pushed her engines to full throttle, and ended up confirming her fears as she heard the telltale sounds of a motor dragging on empty air.

For a long moment, Inazuma simply stared at nothing. Then, her body started shaking as a wail rose from her throat into the morning sky.

" _THAT'S NOT FAAAAAAIRE!"_


	2. Cautious

_Chapter 2 - Cautious_

* * *

It wasn't easy being a (ship) girl in the big city, and nobody knew that better than Aoba. Daring journalist, dashing reporter, and intelligence gatherer extraordinaire. Wherever there was a story to be found, she'd find it, no matter the danger involved.

And this story looked to be her biggest one yet.

The meeting took place in her office, which was not a repurposed janitorial closet no matter what those slander-spreading hussies down the hall claimed. The lights were dim, a single desk fan slowly rotating as a tactically positioned lamp put the backdrop of its silhouette across the far wall. The air was heavy, as if saturated with the imminent drama she knew was coming.

That was when her contact walked in. A creak, a brief glimpse of light from the outside world, and the door shut behind her. She was a slight girl, too short to be anything other than a destroyer, but she'd carefully masked her identity with a pair of heavy sunglasses, long, baggy clothing and a pot of all things covering the top of her head.

Aoba knew this girl was dangerous. Good. Danger was part of her job.

"Welcome." The journalist said. "I'd offer you a seat, but I'm told you want this taken care of as quickly as possible. Names won't be necessary. You'll remain perfectly anonymous. Now, I heard you had something for me?"

"Yes." The girl confirmed, her voice muffled and devoid of inflection. "I have it on good authority that a rogue manga artist has gotten loose in the base."

 _Manga artists._ The one enemy that both Shipgirls and Abyssals fell prey to in equal measure. Their degeneracy knew no bounds. Their actions were without mercy. No girl, no matter how plain or unassuming, was safe from the embarrassing clutches of their ink-stained ambitions. Absolutely nothing was sacred to them. Nothing at all.

Aoba grinned. This was a scoop if ever she'd heard one.

"I take it you have proof?" She prompted, earning a nod from her masked contact.

"Two days from now, a deal will be going down at midnight." The girl confirmed. "The artist has set up a meeting with one of her biggest customers out back behind the storage warehouses. You'll find all the proof you need then."

The reporter shivered as the thrill of what she was about to do rolled over her. Another job. Another mission. Once more into the breach in the name of unparalleled journalism. There was just one more thing she needed to confirm.

"And… the subject of this manga?"

Her contact hesitated, seeming conflicted for an instant before clenching her fists together and looking up.

"A book… featuring the Sixth Destroyer Division."

The knowledge was like a metaphorical brick through an insubstantial window. Destroyer Division Six. Some of the greatest victims of the manga threat next to the First Carrier Division, the legendary tsundere Akebono, and the famous skimpy destroyer Shimakaze. People paid big money for those kinds of books. She couldn't afford to miss this opportunity.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." She said, rising to her feet. "Rest assured, this matter will be exposed for the travesty it is and justice will be meted out as soon as possible. Your payment will be left at the same dead drop as last time."

"The amount?"

"Four coupons for free deserts at Mamiya's." Aoba said, earning a pleased nod from her aide. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"Khorosho." Replied the anonymous girl.

* * *

Aoba was a ghost in the pale moonlight. She slipped through the shadows with skills born of a lifetime or investigative field experience, blending as easily as the famous ninja of ancient Japan. Her weapon, an old and battle-tested camera, still kept in prime condition for the job at hand and maintained with a slavish sense of devotion. The only weapon a reporter needed.

It was a heavy night. The wind had stopped, as though the world was holding its breath. The ocean was sleek and calm. The only noise was the gentle lapping of the water's edge, and the flickering of the street lamps lining the corners of these dreary back alleys.

She'd staked the place out long ago, mapping out the entire location a day prior, and had arrived a full two hours before the designated time. Now, she waited in the darkness, eyes open for the slightest clue as to her target's location.

Her patience was rewarded as the sound of footsteps echoed across the warehouse district. Peering out from her hiding place, Aoba spotted her mark. A lone girl shuffling her way into the open, glancing nervously to each side as though knowing just how much trouble she was in.

Her furtive looks didn't concern Aoba. No, she'd been careful in selecting her position. This was a dangerous line of work, and those who couldn't keep their heads tended to lose them. What interested her far more than the girl's demeanor was her identity.

Akigumo, carrying a hefty briefcase. The class-confused art enthusiast of the fleet. Hardly a surprise to find out she was the one behind this sickening deal given her background, but Aoba couldn't help but feel a sense of profound disappointment in the girl. Where had she gone wrong? What had led to her selling out her own sisters for the twisted amusement of entertainment-starved moe-addicts?

Aoba's head snapped up as a second set of footsteps approached from the far side. Before her eyes, the buyer showed themselves, walking with a false sense of confidence through the open ground. To any other, they might have looked like they belonged, but to the professional journalist of the Japanese Navy, the tells were obvious. The way their shoulders were just slightly hunched as though trying to hide form the prying eyes of the world. The over-regulated spread of their footsteps. The air of excited tension that lurked just under each movement.

And if those weren't good enough signs, the oversized trench-coat and face-masking wide brimmed hat were a pretty good indication that something shady was going on here.

Aoba readied her camera, dialing in the distance with practiced ease as she waited for her chance.

"Did you bring the goods?" Asked the buyer. A woman's voice. Deep and powerful. Yakuza maybe? Or even an Abyssal proxy? Oh, Akigumo, what have you gotten yourself into.

"Of course." Assured the wayward manga artist. "Did you bring the payment?"

The woman replied by reaching into her coat and pulling out a decent sized stack of bills. Aoba's eyes lit up at the sight.

"Right here. Now… the book."

Akigumo laid her briefcase on the ground, popping open the clasps and drawing out the oh-so-desirable contraband.

"Got it. 'Hibiki's bad hair day.' The fourth and final in the series." She said. "It's all yours."

The buyer stepped forwards, her mask of stoicism cracking in the face of the book. One hand reached out for her prize while the other moved to hand over the bundle of cold, hard, cash. But as the two met to complete their underhanded transaction, a flash of light stopped them in their tracks.

The click of her camera's shutter snapped through the nighttime air like a gunshot, leaving the pair frozen. Akigumo's mask of horror at the realization she'd been caught was mirrored by the rigid posture of her dirty dealer.

And like that, Aoba was off, sprinting back into the night as cries of panic and sounded from behind her.

 _Another day, another scumbag caught in the act. Just the latest in a long line of success stories from the greatest reporter of all time._

* * *

The next day, after she'd given enough time for any potential hunters to die down, Aoba slapped the developed photograph down on the desk of Secretary Ship Nagato.

"Here it is." She declared. "Proof that illicit manga dealings have been going on in the base behind the scenes."

The battleship eyed her picture with a serious gaze. As the one in charge of most base-wide operations, all of Aoba's publications had to be run past her before going to print, but she had no doubt that this one would be in all the papers by that time tomorrow. Maybe sooner depending on how quick she was able to finish editing.

"My word, this is really something." Nagato whistled as she stood from her desk. Akigumo's face was unmistakable in the image, and though the buyer's face was hidden, Aoba knew it was only a matter of time before she was caught out. "You've outdone yourself Aoba. You really have."

The reporter grinned, leaning back in her chair as Nagato walked past her to the door. The satisfaction of a job well done was settling in, and while she knew better than to let things go to her head, she-

The sound of a lock being flipped snapped her out of the momentary self-congratulations.

"Really Aoba. You have."

It was in that moment that she recalled something she probably should have paid more attention to earlier. Namely, the voice of the buyer. She'd been so focused on getting her shot, she hadn't realized how… _familiar_ it had sounded.

"But you know…"

A pair of hands clapped down on her shoulders as she tried to stand, keeping her in place with a keenly insistent pressure. Realizing her mistake, she began to tremble in her chair.

" _You should have been more careful._ "

* * *

 _Final report. The stakeout for the illusive manga artist came up unsuccessful. No evidence was found to identify the person or persons responsible for these dealings. Further investigations may be carried out at a later date, but the affected parties are urged to keep a stiff upper lip and try to maintain their dignity as best they can at this time._

 _This has been your impartial news journalist, Aoba, with word from the front._

 _Until next time._


	3. Empower

**Happy holidays everyone!**

* * *

 _Chapter 3 - Empower_

* * *

"Please!"

"No."

" _Please!"_

"I told you, it can't be done."

" _PLEASE!"_

"What do you want from me?" Yuubari demanded, looking up from her work and wiping her oil-stained hands off on a nearby rag. "I told you a dozen times at this point, just because I tinker with stuff doesn't make me a miracle worker."

"Pleeeeeeeease!" Ikazuchi said again, refusing to relinquish her death-grip on the other girl's shirt. "It's the only thing Kiyoshimo wants! I got pulled as her gift exchange partner this year and I can't let her down! She's relying on me! _"_

"I get it!" Yuubari replied, trying and failing to pry off the desperate Akatsuki Class. "You made your point, but I can't do it! You can't just turn a destroyer into a battleship like that. If I could, don't you think I'd have done it for her with how much she goes on about that kind of thing?"

"But I'm her exchange partner!" She wailed again, tugging on the shirt for emphasis.

"Just get her a new bow or something."

"That's not good enough!" Ikazuchi argued. "I have to get her something really good. Something she really, really, wants! And the only thing she wants is to become a battleship!"

"For the last time, it ain't happening." Yuubari stated with finality, managing to pull her off at last and placing her down on the floor of the workshop. "There's only so much I can do. If you want to make her into a battleship, you'll have to do it yourself."

Dejected, rejected, defeated, the small destroyer left with her head held low, slowly making her way back to the dorms as though her shoes had turned to lead. As she flopped down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling in a miserable stupor, her thoughts remained stuck on the impossible task before her.

It was nearly Christmas time. Every year, all the girls in the base drew names for the person they'd be getting a gift for. Ikazuchi prided herself on always getting her partner the thing they desired most of all. She'd already worked miracles, moving heaven and earth, to appease Akagi, Ooi, and even Pola. That one had been a pain. It wasn't easy to get alcohol when you were barely big enough to look over the counter.

But this was turning into an even bigger problem. Kiyoshimo was her partner now, and there was only one thing the girl dreamed of. Her dream, her ultimate goal, was to become a battleship. Unfortunately, that wasn't really possible. At least not without completely reconstructing her from the ground up. Simply put, her dream wasn't going to happen.

Naturally, that only made things worse in her head. Ikazuchi knew that Kiyoshimo didn't expect her to rewrite the laws of naval construction. She knew the girl wasn't expecting to become a battleship this year, but that didn't matter. What mattered was her obligation as a gift giver. Someone was relying on her, and neither snow nor rain nor the legions of hell itself would stop Ikazuchi from delivering when someone was relying on her.

 _If you want to make her into a battleship, you'll have to do it yourself!_

Little by little, an idea began to take shape. The hopeless mask that had fallen over her face shifted, turning into an eager grin. If she wanted to give her the true experience of wielding that kind of power…

Yes.

Yes, she would.

Leaping up from her bed with newfound enthusiasm, the young destroyer sprinted out of her room and made a dash for the supply warehouses.

She had some construction to do.

* * *

"Can I take the blindfold off yet?" Kiyoshimo asked as her energetic companion led her by the hand.

"Nope! Not yet!" Ikazuchi replied. "We're almost there, and then the fun can start! You'll be able to take it off when we're finished."

"But you haven't even told me what we're doing." The Yuugumo-Class pointed out, focusing her efforts to avoid tripping over her own feet.

"It's a secret!"

That helpful descriptor out of the way, she felt herself being led into a large structure. The creak of metal doors and the echoes of their footsteps reached her ears as she curiously turned her blinded eyes in both directions. After several minutes of walking, and a handful of other doors, she suddenly found herself bumping into something only for Ikazuchi to catch her at the last minute.

"Just a sec!" The girl warned. "Table in front of you. Okay, now I want you to lift your leg up on the count of three. Then you're gonna get up on top of the table and lay down. Sound good? Good! One… Two…"

"Wait, what's even going-" She tried to say, but didn't make it very far.

"Three!"

Kiyoshimo found herself being roughly 'helped' onto the table by the assistance of a very overeager child. With a slew of startled cries, several near falls, and an altogether uncoordinated effort, she eventually found herself reclining on the metal surface. Whatever the reason they were doing this, it didn't seem like Ikazuchi had found a big enough table, as her legs were left to dangle off the edge while her head tapped the opposite end precariously.

"Okay… so what am I doing now?" She asked hesitantly.

"Now you just lie there for a bit!" Ikazuchi replied happily. "Just relax, and I'll take care of everything. Trust me, you're going to love this!"

"If you say so." She answered.

That was when she heard the sound of power tools and started to get worried. Drills whirred to life, mechanical saws activated around her, and all the while, she was left completely in the dark. What was going on? She didn't need emergency repairs, and even if she did, she highly doubted Ikazuchi was qualified to carry them out. Was this some kind of courage trial? Was she supposed to hold her nerve while the other destroyer tried to make her freak out? Or…

On no. Was she… _being scrapped!?_ She'd always just assumed that ships who got scrapped were informed of it beforehand, but maybe not. If they didn't know, they wouldn't have to worry about possible resistance, would they!? Her breath started to come in ragged gasps as a thousand nightmare scenarios flashed inside her head, magnified by the ominous whirr of countless _things_ happening all around. She was done for! This was it! She was going to be decommissioned, and broken down to-

Something clamped down on her arm, nearly causing her to scream. The weight however, gave her pause. It didn't feel like some horrible device designed to dismantle her. Rather, it almost felt like a piece of rigging.

As that thought crossed her mind, another piece was slotted into place on her other arm. Then her legs, thighs, shoulders… after a while, Ikazuchi prompted her to sit up, and something much heavier was affixed to her back, strapped in place all around her midsection and upper body. The process continued for several minutes as layers were added, bits rearranged, and bits and bobs were snapped into place.

Sitting obediently, she waited as the plethora of objects were attached to her body despite her growing confusion. Finally, after what felt like an age and a half in the dark, Ikazuchi suddenly whisked the blindfold from her face.

"Ta-dah!" The smaller destroyer cried, wheeling up a mirror for her to see herself. "Take a look!"

Kiyoshimo did.

And her mouth dropped open.

"What… what…"

She had been right. It was rigging, but this wasn't the kind she usually wore. It was much bulkier, armor plating seemingly grafted on and out all around her. The rear engine and leg pieces remained the same as her usual loadout, but even those were enhanced by numerous additions that screamed heavy duty.

Even as she was processing exactly what she was seeing, her eyes were drawn to her weapons, and everything struck her with the intensity of a lightning storm.

Massive forty-six-centimeter triple gun mounts. High caliber weaponry that no destroyer could hope to use. This was…

"B-B-B-Battleship!" She shrieked, her voice cracking as her entire body started to tremble. She could hardly believe what she was seeing, but the vision in front of her didn't disappear no matter how many times she blinked.

Behind her, Ikazuchi grinned, patting her on the back. "That's right! I got my hands on some special tech, just for you! Won't last forever, but for the rest of the day, you're going to be a genuine, bona-fe… bonef… bonafee… a real battleship!" She gave a daring look into the reflection in the mirror, nodding her approval as Kiyoshimo stared in silent awe. "Go ahead. Try moving around."

Working automatically, she did, shifting her limbs and torso experimentally and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sensation.

"It's so light!" She exclaimed in surprise, waving her arms around in circles and coming to realize that the enormous guns she was mounting felt like they weighed even less than her old ones.

"That'll be your battleship strength kicking in!" Ikazuchi assured. "You're able to bench a ton more than you used to, easy!"

In the back of her mind, Kiyoshimo wondered why it was then that her old motor and leggings still felt as heavy as ever, or why she had those destroyer-level pieces in a battleship loadout, but the majority of her mind was still too busy screaming in wonder to care.

"How?" She asked, finally finding her voice. "How did you do it?"

"That's a secret." Ikazuchi said, giving an impish smile. "This is real experimental stuff! Totally cutting edge! You won't find it anywhere else. Now, how about we get working on that list?"

"List?" The newly reclassed Shipgirl questioned.

"You bet!" She said. "Like I told you, this stuff is only gonna work temporarily. You've got a day as a battleship, so let's get to work on doing all the things you wanted to do as one. Let's test them out!"

Kiyoshimo's eyes lit up brighter than a Christmas tree, and Ikazuchi smirked inwardly at her own brilliance. As she and her ecstatic partner made for the exit to the warehouse, she carefully ensured that none of her equipment could be seen.

The various plastic scraps, blueprints, spray-paint, the battleship-to-do-list recorded from Kiyoshimo's private diary, and the sketches on how to go about filling those goals all remained hidden.

* * *

Battleship goal #1 – Target practice

"Woah!" Kiyoshimo cried with glee as another buoy exploded in a brilliant firestorm. She was firing wildly now, marveling at how little recoil she felt thanks to her new strength as she obliterated target after target. No misses either! Her aim must have improved too!

From the sidelines, Ikazuchi kept hammering the detonator switch, triggering the targets on the water to explode one after another and thanking her lucky stars that Kiyoshimo was too focused on their detonations to notice how each time she fired, the flash of light and smoke from her guns seemed oddly similar to flash charges and smoke bombs, or how the noise of each shot sounded like an old recording.

She also thanked them for the fact that there were so many explosives stored in the naval base. Sure, they were supposed to be under strong security, but let it never be said that Ikazuchi wasn't resourceful when she wanted to be.

As the last buoy was destroyed, Kiyoshimo turned to wave at her with the biggest grin she'd ever seen.

 _Perfect._

* * *

Battleship goal #2 – Battle the battleship

It was one thing to shoot targets, but she needed to test her new limits, and for that, she needed to engage one of the other heavy hitters in a practice battle. This one had been a bit tricky for Ikazuchi to plan out since it not only relied on stealing materials for her own ends, but to get one of the battleships on the base to go along with her plan as well as getting them to let her attach small charges to them in order to go off during the match. She kept a concise notepad of each of their reactions.

 _Nagato – No. Told me to stop wasting resources._

 _Gangut – Threatened to shoot me if I didn't leave right then (probably a no)_

 _Kongou – Said something in English. Couldn't understand her. Sounded like she was ordering yakitori._

 _Bismarck – Seemed way too eager to show off "superior German engineering" so probably going to pass on that one. Don't want her to sink Kiyoshimo by accident._

 _Iowa – We got it._

The American battleship, with her seemingly limitless confidence and goofy attitude, had agreed to help out almost immediately, and hadn't even flinched when Ikazuchi brought up the whole strapping-bombs-to-her thing. Now, she was engaged in a frantic run-and-gun battle with Kiyoshimo, exchanging fire that whizzed past the younger girl's head in a show of surprising control.

For her part, Kiyoshimo was all too eager to charge into battle, firing off 'salvos' at every opportunity, and making Ikazuchi glad she had depth charges positioned across the battlefield to act as missed shots. It was a hectic exchange and was only made more dramatic when she had to simulate an actual hit.

"Aaaaagh! You'll pay for that!" Iowa cried in an overdramatic manner as one of the hits detonated against her side. The charge was more flash and show than anything, but the way Kiyoshimo's eyes lit up said that this fact, as well as Iowa's cheesy acting, and the pretty obvious fact that the true battleship was holding back heavily were all lost in the living of her long-held fantasy.

The American battleship took a moment to smile and wink over at Ikazuchi as the smoke obscured her for a moment.

 _Focus! She might be dense, but she's not blind!_ The destroyer wanted to say, but settled on blowing another charge and causing her to yelp and nearly capsize over her own feet. _Now pay attention. This dance isn't over yet._

* * *

Battleship goal #3 – Vanity shots

Obviously Kiyoshimo needed something to commemorate the big moment. Thankfully for Ikazuchi, this was the simplest of her goals to achieve. Slip a few bills to Aoba, explain the situation, and bam. One photo-op set up without even having to break any of the bases rules or turn anyone into a walking bomb.

"And smile!" The reporter commanded, causing Kiyoshimo to obey with enthusiasm. Despite how tired out she was after the day's activities, she still held herself with the boundless energy of a child on Christmas day. "That's it, turn your head a bit. Now, give me anger! Victory! Show me your best triumphant pose! Yes, just like that!"

Content to sit this one out, Ikazuchi let the professional work and took a rest on a nearby bench.

 _And that takes care of that._

* * *

Ikazuchi hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she was awoken by Aoba tapping her on the shoulder.

"Hey sleepyhead, the sessions done." She said, handing her a pile of developed pictures. "Your little friend wanted you to hang onto these until she came to pick them up later."

"Oh… right… uh…" Still feeling the aftereffects of her nap, Ikazuchi rubbed her eyes with one hand while looking over the photographs. They looked good, and she knew that they'd make a wonderful memento for- wait a minute. "…pick them up later?"

Snapping back to wakefulness, she was struck by a sudden realization. Kiyoshimo wasn't around anymore.

"Yeah, she said she was gonna swing by to ask you for them when she was done." Aoba replied, fiddling with the settings on her camera.

"Done with what?" Ikazuchi asked, a lump starting to form in the pit of her stomach. "Where did she go? What is she doing?"

"Oh? I thought you knew already." The photographer said, raising an eyebrow. "She said the last thing she wanted to do during her day as a battleship was to go out and fight some Abyssals at her full strength. Wasn't that part of your plan or something?"

Oh. Crap.

For a split second, Ikazuchi just stared at her in silence before, very suddenly, shooting off the spot like an army of feral hounds were chasing her towards the staging area.

 _IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT!_

She desperately hoped she was fast enough to stop Kiyoshimo. If not, whatever punishment the admiral had in store for her when he discovered her breaches in protocol would be nothing compared to what he'd do should the other girl get hurt because of her.

" _Kiyoshimo! WAAAIT!" She cried out in the evening air. "YOU DON'T NEED TO FIGHT ABYSSALS! YOU STILL HAVE ME, DON'T YOU!?"_


	4. Clean

_Chapter 4 - Clean_

* * *

Yayoi had long ago stopped trying to understand all the eccentricities of her sisters. They were, like all other Shipgirls, just a part of their personalities. Even if they made no sense to her at times, she could still simply accept them for what they were.

Except for one.

Her fingers were lightly drumming against her arm as she waited outside the docks. To anyone else, it would have looked perfectly normal, but to those who knew the stoic-faced girl on more than a passing level it was clear that Yayoi was far beyond the point of irritation.

 _Two hours._ She'd been waiting for _two hours._ The little accident in the training grounds had left Uzuki with some minor damage thanks to a shell going off in the chamber. Estimated repair time had been twenty to thirty minutes. Yet here she was, silently staring at the door as very angry thoughts passed behind her icy visage.

Of her sisters, Uzuki always managed to vex her the most. The two of them were like polar opposites. Uzuki's energetic, outgoing, childish, and incredibly excitable personality countered her subdued, distant, mature, and level-headed attitude almost like it was tailor made to do so. That was fine. She was used to it and had accepted it simply as part of who Uzuki was. _This_ however, was getting to be too much.

Uzuki and her baths. Uzuki in the docks. She always seemed to take forever, staying in the water far longer than was necessary. Had it been any other base, Yayoi was certain the admiral would have slapped her with some disciplinary action for wasting valuable repair time that other damaged ships might need, but they were very far from the front here, with a handful of light skirmishes being their only claim to fame.

For the life of her, she just couldn't wrap her head around it. For the constantly moving Uzuki to sit in one place for so long seemed ludicrous. That she spent so long ensuring that every inch of her skin was cleaned thoroughly and to an almost obsessive degree just didn't make sense. She might have been a tad on the vain side, but she wasn't a primadonna and had no problem with getting dirty from what Yayoi had seen. It didn't even match up with her silly rabbit-like persona.

From behind the door, she heard footsteps, and knew that the wait was finally over. She started to move into a more neutral posture before changing her mind and holding position. Let Uzuki see how annoyed she was. Maybe then she'd at least start to take this a bit more seriously.

As the door slid open, a wave of steam struck her face, momentarily obscuring her vision. She faced the heated moisture without flinching, waiting for it to clear and reveal the one she was after.

Uzuki was there, strolling through the open doorway as casual as could be, dressed in a towel and stretching her arms over her head with a contented grin on her face. She wasn't even bothering to look where she was going and would have walked right on by had Yayoi not stopped her by saying "that's a dangerous pose you're taking. You should be more conscious of your audience."

The redhead just about jumped out of her skin with a startled yelp, stumbling as her feet threatened to spill out from underneath her before she saw who it was.

"Ah! Yayoi! What are you doing here?" She asked, clenching her towel with one hand while using the other to mat down her hair.

Her sister fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Waiting for you." She replied dryly. "You've been in there for ages."

At least she had the presence of mind to look sheepish at the accusation, giving a nervous laugh as she looked back over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess I really lost track of time, didn't I - _pyon?"_ She said. "Hope you weren't out here too long. Won't happen again, I promise!"

"…Or you'll hand over your dessert for the next week?" Yayoi questioned, causing her mouth to drop open in surprise.

"How did you know I was gonna say that!?"

"Because it's what you said the last time." She stated. "And the time before that. _And the time before that._ I could keep going, but…"

"Ehehehe…"

"Uzuki…" She sighed, closing her eyes.

"You mean U-Chan~"

" _Uzuki._ " She repeated. "This has to stop. You can't keep doing this."

"I wasn't in there that long!" The redhead replied, trying to look indignant but failing due to having to fight to keep her one article of makeshift clothing in place.

"You were in there for two hours."

"So!?" She demanded. "The carriers get to spend WAY longer than that in the docks, right?"

"That's because they're carriers." Yayoi said evenly. "They _need_ to spend that long in there. You don't."

"It's no big deal though…"

"And what if we had ships in need of repair?" She pressed, stepping closer for emphasis. "Ships who would be forced to wait while you were dawdling in there."

"I… wasn't dawdling…" Uzuki replied, though by the way her eyes went to the floor it was clear she knew she was in a losing position.

"Am I going to have to lecture you about this?" Yayoi questioned, causing her to grimace. "Or even go to the admiral?"

"Eh!? Don't do that!" She pleaded quickly. "It's not a big deal, honest! And I've already promised the admiral that I'd only do it when the docks weren't being used by others."

Yayoi's eyebrow twitched.

"So he already knows?"

Her energetic sister paused, realizing she'd slipped up. "He… said it was okay as a special case - _pyon_ … just as long as I didn't go around spreading the word or hogging dock time when other people needed it…"

Yayoi closed her eyes, counting to ten and logging in the back of her mind that she'd need to speak to the admiral about adhering to the proper rules of the base before returning her gaze to her squirming subject.

"And _why_ is it that he's granting you special treatment for this?" She questioned, taking another step forward. "Would you like to tell me what's really going on?"

Uzuki's eyes glanced furtively to the side, furthering her suspicion. The trapped destroyer's lips pulled into a thin line as she shuffled uncomfortably on the spot.

" _I'm waiting for an answer._ "

"It's because…" She started, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. "It's… er… the only time I get to unwind."

Yayoi's interrogation suddenly ground to a halt as the unexpected response threw her off balance.

"…Unwind?" She asked.

"Yeah. It's not easy being hyper all the time, you know?" Uzuki explained. "When I'm in the bath or the docks… it's a lot easier for me to relax for a while. It's… soothing. Or something like that. If I don't, then I just start to feel stressed and run down, and I don't want to end up having that rub off on anyone else. I'm sorry if I got on your nerves…"

It was a surprisingly reasonable answer. Knowing her sister, Yayoi had expected something silly and airheaded, not the genuine admission of what she'd gotten. If anything, Uzuki was looking a bit vulnerable right now, as though she were discussing some kind of secret she couldn't normally share.

"I… see…" Was all she could say.

A lull fell over the conversation as she chewed over the information. It was obvious now that this was more important than just negligent disregard for wasting time. Nodding silently to herself, she looked up and met her sister's gaze once more.

"Well… in that case… I suppose it isn't too much of a problem." She said.

"Really?" Uzuki asked, eyes widening.

"Yes, just please try to be reasonable about it. You know, like when someone is waiting for you to get out so that we can finish the paperwork we were assigned this morning."

And just like that, she was caught out again, freezing in place before letting out a nervous trill and rubbing the back of her head.

"Oh… yeah… I kind of forgot about that part - _pyon._ " She said. "Sorry…"

Yayoi let her stew for a few moments before relenting, offering up her equivalent of a smile.

"Like I said, it's all right. Just meet me back at the dorms as soon as you get dressed. I don't want to hear any excuses, all right?"

"Yes ma'am!" Uzuki replied, giving a salute with a happy grin. "U-Chan will be there right away!"

This time she let herself roll her eyes as she turned towards the exit with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"See you then."

* * *

Uzuki was silent for a while after her sister left, feeling her heart-rate calm down slowly. When it finally settled to a more reasonable level, she cast a glance back towards the docks.

 _It hurt. She watched them go, one by one, never coming back. It hurt, but she couldn't cry out. She had no voice. The only sound she could make was the mournful creaks of her metal hull in the cold and unforgiving water. The ocean had claimed them, and she was alone. The Mutsuki Class had been renamed, and the honor of being the new namesake of her division choked her like an anchor around the throat she didn't have._

 _Their blood clung to her, unseen. She could feel it. In every bolt, in every crossbar and weld, she could feel it. The weight of outliving the others. The weight of being alone._

She shivered, feeling the air start to chill her unprotected body. In a way, she was glad Yayoi had been so annoyed with her. The irritation had stopped her from noticing the fact that her skin was rubbed raw. Scoured. The same way it always was when she got out from the docks. No matter how long she spent in the water, she could never wipe away the past. Not with those memories lurking in the back of her mind.

The admiral knew of course and had been kind enough to let her have this time for herself. She was grateful. Even if she couldn't share the echoes of her past with her sisters yet, she was happy that they were here now.

Little by little, she worked up her composure once more and let her face meld into her usual bright smile.

 _Someday I'll tell you the real story, Yayoi._ She thought to herself. _So please, keep waiting for me until then._


	5. Debonair

_Chapter 5 - Debonair_

* * *

Tensions were high. So much was riding on this. Zuikaku knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that this coming event would be one of the most important in her entire career. No… perhaps even one of the most important in her _life._ The moment she'd recall many years from now when looking back on all the stories she'd amassed across her time on earth. The moment where, after fighting for so long, victory would finally be won.

"Breathe… breathe… and… _go!_ "

In a single fluid motion, Zuikaku threw back the obscuring curtain, pausing for the specified amount of time ( _exactly_ three seconds) before striding forwards with all the confidence of a conquering empress and delivering the line that would cement her ultimate triumph.

" _HelloladiesandgentelmenmynameisZuikakuoftheFifthCarrierDivisionandit'sapleasuretomeetyoutonight!"_

"CUT!"

Her shoulders slumped, collapsing down on her with the weight of the inevitable as the jumbled mess of her panicked declaration shattered against the floorboards into a million tiny pieces. Down in the auditorium, two faces peered back at her.

"That was TERRIBLE!" Naka stated, waving her borrowed megaphone towards the miserable carrier for emphasis. "You're trying too hard and none of it looks natural! Your shoulders are way too stiff, your steps are uneven, and what was that line delivery!? _And fix your collar! You messed it up again!"_

Zuikaku couldn't help but flinch a bit at the accusations. The normally bright and sunny cruiser was a menace when it came to anything related to showmanship. Not that she could say anything to defend herself. Having practiced this whole routine for days on end, her nerves were getting to her and all the problems she'd started out with only seemed to be getting worse.

As Naka continued to tear into the hundreds of things wrong with her presentation, Zuikaku's sister-ship, Shoukaku offered an apologetic smile across from her.

"It… wasn't that bad…" She offered, trying to soothe the situation. "She didn't trip this time, so that's an improvement isn't it?"

"Barely!" Naka replied, rounding on her. "She needs to flow on stage! Fu-la- _oooooooh_. To be a shining star that captures the hearts and minds of the audience. She's representing every carrier in the naval base and connecting them to the whole world! If she does _that_ again when the cameras are rolling, it's going to ruin everything!"

Brutal. Honest, but brutal. Hearing the weight of responsibility being hammered down once more did nothing to soothe Zuikaku's discomfort. Matters were only worsened by the fact that she knew that this was a grave she'd dug for herself. One she couldn't rightly back out of without utterly destroying what pride she had as a carrier.

As the war with the Abyssals had dragged on, it became increasingly clear that keeping matters separate from the general public wasn't the proper strategy. People were seeing more and more that the broadcasts which had been given to them had dramatically underplayed the threat on the open seas. With their enemies digging in and refusing to budge, they needed to ensure that people didn't start to panic under the looming threat. Already there were less than flattering rumors starting to spread about the nature of Shipgirls that needed to be stamped out. The best way to do that, it had been decided, was to show the world the human face of their defenders.

Small interviews had been done across dozens of different naval bases, collecting information and taking pictures, but the biggest step was going to be the live presentation. Attempting to narrow down the numbers and create a more personable appearance, a single ship from each class would be selected to speak in front of a large audience on behalf of their fellows. They'd give a brief overview of what their job at the base was, answer a few questions, and maybe even give some commentary on the state of the war to ease the fears that were brewing on the home front.

Naka had naturally ended up being the face of the light cruisers due to having more experience with the media than almost all the rest of the Shipgirls combined and had been given the task of getting them ready for the ultimate presentation. For her part, Zuikaku had fought for her place.

It had been a fierce contest, but only one opponent had mattered to her. Kaga. Her most loathed rival of the First Carrier Division. One of them would be chosen to represent the carriers, while the other was consigned to watch from the sidelines.

As with all other matters relating to her senior, Zuikaku had attacked the challenge with ferocity. This was an irreplaceable chance. She _needed_ to win this, not just for her own pride, but to prove that the Fifth Carrier Division could be every bit as good as the First. She'd gone through the motions, listed out countless credentials, gave the greatest impression she could, and had managed to win her place by an incredibly narrow margin.

She'd thought that was the hard part. How wrong she'd been.

The idea of speaking in front of hundreds of people, with thousands or even millions watching overseas, hadn't intimidated her when she'd been competing for the spot against Kaga. Now though… now that her place was locked in and the battle was centered on her and her alone, it was becoming apparent she hadn't really thought this plan through very far.

"Can I at least get a break…" Zuikaku asked, struggling to resist the urge to tug at her collar for the fifteenth time in the past ten minutes. "I feel like I'm suffocating in here…"

"That's one of the reasons I said to wear a dress!" Naka replied, as pitiless as she'd been throughout the whole process. "A suit, especially a black suit, is going to cook you under the spotlights. The dress I had picked out for you was a lot lighter, and the white would help keep you from overheating."

Her wardrobe was perhaps the only thing she'd managed to decide on her own since this 'tutoring' session had begun. While Zuikaku liked to think she still had a feminine charm of her own, the long, flowing, dress that Naka had picked out for her was just too much. Even just imagining standing in front of so many people while wearing it had made her want to curl up and hide.

The suit on the other hand felt a lot more familiar and formal, and while it lacked a skirt, it was still much closer to her usual attire and much less likely to tangle around her feet if she took a wrong step. Naka had, after giving up on the dress, used a lot of different words such as "suave" and "stylish" and "confident" and "dashing" to describe the look it gave off, as though those descriptors would help Zuikaku know how she was supposed to act while wearing it.

That hadn't helped much. Even "confident," the one she was most familiar with, was proving difficult to grasp right in that moment.

"I think a break is a good idea." Shoukaku offered, rising from her seat. Naka said something to the contrary, but the carrier onstage was no longer listening to her, too focused on silently pleading for her sister to save her from this torture. "Stopping for half an hour will give her time to settle and come back refreshed. Don't you think that would be better than having her burn out before the show starts?"

The cruiser pouted, grumbling her assertion and mentioning something about checking on the destroyers before walking towards the door. She only paused at the precipice to shout over her shoulder "thirty minutes and that's it! After that, you're getting back up there until you can deliver the whole thing _flawlessly!_ "

Zuikaku just about wept with relief as she disappeared. With a groan, she dropped down into the seat next to her sister, holding her head in her hands.

"You know…" She remarked. "I never knew Naka could be this intense."

"She is an idol, after all." Shoukaku said, laying a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

Terrible. Awful. Miserable.

"I'm fine." She lied. "I wanted this, remember? To represent the fleet's carriers in front of the world."

Shoukaku just gazed down at her with that patient, warm smile that only she could pull off. As ever, her support helped to chase away any of the uncertainties in Zuikaku's mind. If only she could hold onto that while she was standing up there.

"You did very well in the auditions, didn't you?" She probed, searching for a way to help. "Enough to impress the Admiral."

"That was different." Zuikaku dismissed. "Back then I was competing against Kaga. I didn't have time to think about what I was doing, only that I had to do it better than her. Now that I'm actually going up there, I stop and think about having all those eyes on me… the fact that I'm going to be representing the others… and it makes me feel like my stomach is turning inside out."

Shoukaku took on a thoughtful expression, rubbing her back in small, reassuring circles.

"Then, maybe if we could find a way to recapture that spirit you had, maybe you'd be able to pull it off." The white-haired carrier mused out loud.

"Yeah… maybe…" Zuikaku conceded. "But I don't have any idea how to do that. I'm not going to be competing with anyone up there."

"I'll work on that part." Shoukaku assured, turning her head as the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. "In the meantime, I think you'd best get back in position. Naka's coming back."

"Here we go again…"

* * *

The hour had come, and Zuikaku didn't feel any more prepared than she had when she'd first started stumbling in the practice rounds. Naka had beat the steps and words into her head with an iron fist, but now, with a live audience waiting outside and only a thin curtain separating her from them, she couldn't help but blanch at the thought of putting up the confident façade.

"The speaker for the heavy cruisers just finished." Said one of the backstage hands, scribbling something down on his clipboard before pointing in her direction. "You're up next miss carrier. Two minutes."

"I have a name, you know…" She grumbled, but her heart wasn't in it enough to press the issue. Right now, she didn't _want_ anyone to remember her after this.

But they would. They'd have her entire disaster recorded for all the world to see. Her career would be forever marked by the failure that had spawned as a result of her hubris. As each second ticked by, the knife above her head strained against the tethers holding it in place.

"Sixty seconds!"

Gulping, Zuikaku dared to take a single peek from behind the curtain, and immediately wished she hadn't. She'd expected a crowd of dozens, likely those picked by the top brass to sit in on the presentation. Instead, there were hundreds. Army. Navy. Airforce. Even groups of civilians on the outskirts of the room, all crowded in to see them. To see _her._

She was dead. No doubt about it now. She was going to walk out there, trip up her lines, and die of a heart attack right then and there. Here lies Zuikaku, the only naval vessel to have died of stage fright.

As those morbid thoughts swirled in her increasingly panicked mind, she glanced near the back rows and saw something that froze her whirling mind in its tracks.

Leaning against the back wall as though bored of the whole ordeal, was Kaga. The First Division carrier was situated near the doors, barely visible through the throng, but to Zuikaku, she may as well have been firing off a storm of signal flares. Her half-lidded gaze idled back and forth before, suddenly, snapping directly at the stage.

It should have been impossible for Kaga to see her. She knew that, and yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that the other carrier could pick her out from behind the screen as easily as if she'd been standing right in front of her. That distant, calculated, oh so superior gaze was locked right on her, and she knew in that moment what Kaga was thinking.

She'd come to see her fail.

She'd come here expecting Zuikaku to bumble her way to defeat. Maybe she wanted payback for a bit of revenge after being denied the stage herself, or maybe it was just her usual need to undermine everything the younger carrier achieved.

But wouldn't she get exactly what she'd wanted?

"Ten seconds!"

No, Zuikaku decided with shocking clarity. No, she would not. She could fail in front of hundreds… _thousands_ of people, but to fail in front of that one was unforgivable.

"Five!"

The calamitous mess of emotions that had been boiling under her skin began to retreat, fleeing in the face of a burning resolve.

"Four!"

Her back straightened, her fists clenched, and her eyes met the impassive gaze of her rival from across the great expanse that separated them.

"Three!"

This was her time. Her moment. She'd earned it, and now she had to prove she had the right to it in the first place.

"Two!"

And if Kaga didn't like that… she'd just have to deal with it.

"One!"

With a grand flourish, Zuikaku swept the curtain wide and stepped out, immediately causing a hush to fall over the crowd as she strode out onto the stage. She moved with fluid ease, every step drilled into her head by many hours of practice as she made for the center spotlight. Countless eyes were fixed on her, but hers were fixed on one place and one place alone.

 _Watch this Kaga. I'll show you how it's done._

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen! I'm Zuikaku of the Fifth Carrier Division, and it's a pleasure to meet you tonight!"

* * *

Shoukaku was smiling as Kaga stepped out from the auditorium. The veteran carrier's face betrayed nothing, but she could see the amusement that lingered behind her mask.

"Thank you again for doing this." She said, bowing. "I'm so glad she was able to put on such a good display."

"It was passable." Kaga remarked. "About what I expected from her."

Shoukaku's grin didn't waver. She simply bowed once more and said "I'll be sure to pay you back as soon as I'm able."

Kaga paused momentarily, looking up before turning to her.

"That won't be necessary." She said, the corners of her mouth twitching dangerously close to a smile of her own.

"Seeing Zuikaku in a suit like that was payment enough."


	6. Tell

Chapter _6 - Tell_

* * *

Hamakaze didn't often find herself questioning the admiral, especially not when Isokaze was involved somehow, but still…

"…Uuuuuugh…"

The pitiful groan from the man currently curled up in his chair, a blanket stretched across his shoulders and a bucket clutched to his chest like a lifeline, caused her to frown.

"You know that this is your own fault, don't you?" She prompted, having gone beyond sympathy weeks ago. "Most people don't need to get food poisoning seven times before learning to stop."

"I can't help it…" He groaned, using his hat to mop the film of cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. "C'mon Hamakaze, you know what she's like. I can't say no to that face."

The white-haired girl couldn't help but sigh as he spoke those words. It was no secret that the man in charge of their naval base was… well… a pushover when it came to the Shipgirls stationed there. More than was normal. Thankfully they hadn't been assigned any ships that might abuse his nature just yet, but she couldn't turn a blind eye to her sister potentially assassinating him by mistake.

"…Even so." She said, keeping her hands folded behind her back. "It should go without saying that you're allowed to turn down food from Isokaze. Especially when that food is still smoldering."

"She just said that was residual…" He claimed, though it was clear from his tone he knew he had no ground to stand upon.

"Admiral, you're supposed to be the one in charge of operations here." She pushed, deciding to put her foot down now before the situation devolved any further. "You can't do that when you're throwing up behind your desk, and while I appreciate you supporting my sister's cooking attempts, it's literally making you ill. You need to turn her down."

"Cn't doit…" He mumbled, letting his face sink down to the table. "She'll hate me."

"And if you don't, she'll kill you." Hamakaze countered.

"It's not that ba-"

She assumed he was trying to make light of his condition, but she never got to hear what came next as in that moment, he suddenly seized up, gagging into the bucket in his hands. She politely looked aside, doing her best to avoid thinking about the distinctly unpleasant noises coming from her commanding officer as he fought a losing battle with his dinner.

"…Gah… ugh…" The admiral gasped. "…Oh…ka…y… 'sbah...d."

Hamakaze simply nodded, tentatively looking back at him.

"Yes, it's really becoming a problem." She said, wincing at how miserable he looked in that moment. "…And I can't just sit and watch you do this to yourself. I've decided then."

"…huh?" He asked, squinting up at her.

"If you won't talk to her, I will." She declared, causing him to blink in surprise. "We can't have you like this the next time an inspection comes around."

He tried to say something, probably another attempt to convince her things were fine the way they were, but she was already on her way out. Taking her leave, she stepped through the door and embarked on her own personal mission to save the admiral's life before his kindness killed him.

* * *

Finding Isokaze was the easy part. She was in the same place she'd been since it all started. The kitchen. Ever since she'd discovered that she had a taste tester who'd be there to answer the call whenever she needed him, she'd gone into her cooking hobby with all new levels of enthusiasm.

This had the unfortunate side effect of making her bolder and more experimental with her dishes. Before, she'd been a lousy cook. Now, Hamakaze wasn't even sure if what she was making could still be qualified as food.

The naval base was a modest one, and being relatively small, it didn't have the massive sprawling facilities that some of the more famous ones could claim. For that reason, the kitchen here was fairly compact, containing only the bare necessities needed to keep things running smoothly.

Somehow, despite having so little to work with, Isokaze still managed to leave her mark.

Entering the mess hall was like stepping into a warzone. She could hear the ominous clattering of pots and pans reverberating through the room like gunshots, accentuated by the droning hum of ovens and other cooking apparatus being run far harder than they should have. Each step she took towards the kitchen itself left her feeling like she was walking towards mortal peril.

But she was no stranger to peril, and she didn't flinch when she opened the doors and felt the full weight of the cacophony wash over her.

It didn't just sound like a warzone. It looked the part too. Countless bags and assorted items were strewn about every surface. Ingredients Hamakaze couldn't even begin to name mixed together in spilled messes on the floors, countertops, walls, and even in certain places on the ceilings. Almost every machine in the room was being used, and the noisy choir of mechanical whining was almost too loud to push through.

There, in the middle of it all, was her sister. Raven-black hair stained with bits of food. Clothing messed and battered with all manner of stains. One hand was clamped precariously on a tottering blender that was spitting flecks from underneath the cap which didn't quite fit, while the other was holding open a cookbook to a page that looked as though someone had dipped it in coffee.

Despite the fact that she had dark circles under her eyes, testament to how little sleep she'd been getting recently, Isokaze wore the bright smile of an excited child, taking to the task before her with relish. Both figurative and literal.

Hamakaze gave it a few moments, letting herself acclimate to the disaster zone before pushing through the mess. She didn't bother trying to avoid any of the junk strewn about, there was too much for that. She just strode forwards, staining her shoes with muck and drawing up to her sister ship.

"Having fun?"

Despite the fact that her voice was all but drowned out, Isokaze perked up immediately, spinning on her heel with a grin.

"Hamakaze! Just in time! I need you to hold this for me!" She said, handing over the cookbook before the white-haired destroyer could get a word in edgewise. "Hold on for a second."

Turning back to her work, she began hitting switches on the oven seemingly at random. It was fascinating to watch really, if for no other reason than because of how sure of herself she seemed despite the fact that the poor machine was being bombarded by contradictory information.

"Isokaze." She said, having to speak a bit louder now that yet another appliance was being abused. "We need to talk about your cooking."

"You want to help with the cooking?" Came her response. "Great! Just let me finish blending the curry and we can work together on the cake. No… wait, that's not right, it wasn't a cake, was it? Hmmm…."

"No, I'm not here to help." She said, setting the book aside as she laid a hand on her sister's shoulder. "You need to stop using the admiral as a test dummy!"

"You think chamomile tastes funny?" Isokaze asked, pausing to look at her. "Well what else am I supposed to use as a substitute? We ran out of curry powder ages ago. If you've got any suggestions, I'm open to try it."

"No, that's not what I- oh forget this…"

Deciding to stop the madness before it went any further, Hamakaze directed her attention to the room around her. Moving with a tired, if motivated, energy, she went about the arduous task of systematically disabling every piece of machinery in use. She pulled wires, flipped switches, and hit buttons until, after almost a full ten minutes of work, the room finally fell into blessed silence.

"Well, why'd you go and do that for?" Isokaze asked with a hand on her hip. She'd stood in bemused silence while her sibling undid all of her work, and now looked as though she was calculating how long it would take to get everything running again.

"Because we need to talk. Now." Hamakze stated, folding her arms under her chest and fixing her with a stern expression. "Specifically, about you and the admiral."

"Oh, are you jealous that he gets to spend so much time with your beloved sister these days?" She replied with a cheeky smile. "Don't worry Hamakaze, if you're feeling neglected all you need to do is ask. You know I always have time for you."

"Not what I meant." She said, unamused. "I'm talking about using him to test out your recipes. Don't you think you're abusing his goodwill?"

"How am I abusing his goodwill?" Isokaze questioned. "He always says he's up for it, and what could be wrong with a fresh cooked meal?"

Hamakaze sighed. She'd had a feeling things would go in this direction. There was no way around it. She had to be as blunt as possible in this regard. Trying to play nice would only draw out the problem.

"What I'm saying is your cooking is terrible."

Okay. Maybe that was just a bit _too_ blunt. Silence slapped down on the room like the jaws of a beartrap, and the raven-haired girl froze, staring as though trying to process what she'd just heard.

"Er…"

"Listen, I'm sorry." Hamakaze went on, already regretting her choice in words. "But I just came back from the admiral's office. He's down with food poisoning. Again. I know you like cooking, and that you're happy to have someone who's willing to eat your food, but you have to stop. I can't let you keep going like this."

Isokaze stared at her with an unreadable expression for a long while, absently wiping her hands on the side of her apron. When she finally spoke, her voice was much quieter, and had taken on an almost hesitantly thoughtful tone.

"You… want me to stop cooking for the admiral?"

 _Stop making me feel guilty for this!_ Hamakaze thought, but said out loud "yes. I want you to stop cooking for the admiral. At least not without my personal supervision, all right?"

That was when Isokaze surprised her. Instead of breaking down and crying, or becoming angry as she'd feared, a grin began to slowly spread across her face until she was outright beaming.

" _You want me to stop cooking for the admiral?"_ She asked with a knowing tone which only served to deepen Hamakaze's confusion further. "Well say no more! If that's what you want, I'll honor your wishes."

"…Really?" Was the only response she could give.

"Of course! What kind of sister would I be if I didn't? Really, I'm surprised I didn't notice it earlier. Sorry that you had to sit around and watch this. That must have been hard on you."

"Uh… It's… fine?" Hamakaze said, not following the direction of the conversation at all.

"It isn't!" She declared. Slapping her hands down on the girl's shoulders. "I was putting you through so much trouble without knowing, and that's unforgivable. I'll make this up to you. Just you watch!"

"You don't have to-"

Her protests were cut off as Isokaze began cleaning up the enormous mess, her smile never once wavering as she worked.

"I'm proud of you! Really, I am!"

"…Okay…" Was all Hamakaze could think to say.

* * *

The rest of the day had relatively smoothly, and Isokaze had been true to her word in backing off from the admiral. She'd even gone through the trouble of fixing up most of the damage she'd caused in her overenthusiastic culinary binge. Everything had been going well, until late into the night.

Hamakaze was awakened with a start as a bright light was blasted in her face and a pack of heavy objects was unceremoniously dumped on her. Sputtering in shock, she just about leapt out of her skin to find the one responsible was none other than her sister and roommate.

"Isokaze!" She shouted, finding the other destroyer grinning down at her with a spotlight set up in the middle of the room. "What the hell are you doing!?"

"I told you I was going to make it up to you, didn't I?" She replied, seemingly totally oblivious to the heart attack she'd nearly caused. "Now c'mon! It's time for a late-night study session!"

Hamakaze looked down at her lap to find the pile that had been dumped on her was a variety of books. Romance novels to be specific.

"…Have you gone insane!?" She questioned, genuinely fearing for the girl's mental well-being. "What is this about!?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Isokaze replied. "I'm here to help you out with the admiral!"

"… _what?"_

"I said I'm here to help you out with the admiral!" She repeated. "I heard what you were saying, and now I'm going to make sure you don't miss your chance! I mean, just think it I had been one of the other girls. They might have stolen him before you even had a chance to confess your feelings!"

"…My feelings?"

At her lack of understanding, Isokaze's expression became one of sympathetic pity.

"C'mon Hamakaze." She said. "I know you're not really in touch with your own emotions, but surely you had to realize this. You were giving off all the signs!"

"What signs?"

She shook her head, raising one hand delicately to her temple in a show of disbelief.

"I can't believe I'm the one who has to tell you this…" She began. "…but it's painfully obvious that you have feelings for the admiral!"

"…"

"I mean, it must have been torture seeing me cooking for him when you wanted to be the one filling that role." She went on, not seeming to notice the blank expression on her sister's face. "I'm sure he's a nice guy and all, maybe not someone _I'd_ be after myself, but that doesn't mean I want to stop you from chasing him. Follow your heart! Don't let anything stand in your way!"

"Isokaze…" Hamakaze began. "You've seriously misunderstood the situation…"

"There's no reason to try and pretend." She went on. "Be more honest with yourself. Playing hard to get is a fine strategy and all, but you need to get a hook in him first."

"I said you misunderstood!"

"I won't hear of it!" Isokaze declared, grinning deviously once more. "Now prepare yourself, because I'm going to tell you everything you need to know about the world of romance!"

* * *

The admiral eventually managed to recover, but any time he went to thank Hamakaze for stepping in on his behalf, she was strangely absent. He always seemed to show up just after she'd left, and had begun to think she was avoiding him. The few glimpses he got of her, she'd turned red in the face and avoided eye contact. When he stopped to ask her sister what was going on, she merely gave him a sly wink and promised that "don't worry, I'm sure you'll find out soon!"

For some reason, that made him more worried than anything.


End file.
